Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

After the incident with the Slytherins, life settled back into its usual rhythm for Cael.

Fortunately for him, there were no punishments. He had been careful—clean, quick, and quiet. No one could point a finger his way. But that didn't mean he was in the clear.

Snape still looked at him like he was some criminal walking free. Always watching. Always waiting for him to slip.

"Stay behind."

That's why, when the Potions class ended and Cael was stuffing his parchment into his bag, the words Stay behind sent a cold shiver down his spine.

The dungeon classroom was nearly empty. The heavy door creaked as the last students disappeared into the corridor, their laughter echoing faintly behind them.

Cael straightened, heart tight in his chest.

Professor Snape stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, black robes hanging around him like shadows. His dark eyes pinned Cael with quiet, simmering disdain.

The room fell still. The only sound was the soft crackle of torchlight.

Snape's footsteps echoed as he approached, slow and sharp like a predator stalking its prey.

"I know it's you," Snape said quietly, voice cold as ice.

Cael kept his face blank, but his stomach twisted.

Snape's lip curled into the ghost of a sneer.

"Dumbledore may pretend to be blind… Professor McGonagall too—always eager to believe the best in students." His tone dripped with sarcasm. "But I'm not so easily fooled."

Snape stepped closer. In the flickering torchlight, Cael saw the faint lines of exhaustion carved into the professor's pale face—hidden beneath his usual sharp scowl.

"It's you, sneaking around the Slytherin dormitories… poking at the Frey brothers… thinking you're clever."

His voice lowered, dangerous now.

"But let me remind you, Mr. Vale… you're not clever. And you're certainly not untouchable."

 The words sank, heavy and cold, into the quiet.

"You may believe the headmaster's… tolerance protects you." Snape's eyes narrowed, gleaming faintly beneath the shadows. "But you forget—families like the Freys, like the pure-bloods… they don't forget. And they don't forgive."

Snape's expression twisted, somewhere between amusement and quiet threat.

"A Muggle-born with a taste for revenge…" He gave a sharp, humorless chuckle. "How original."

There was an edge to his voice now—a warning buried beneath the scorn.

"Inside these walls, the headmaster's protection keeps you breathing. Beyond them… well…" Snape tilted his head slightly, studying Cael. "The rules change."

For a brief second, something colder passed across Snape's face. It almost looked like… caution. But it vanished, hidden beneath his practiced sneer.

"I suggest you reconsider your… little vendetta," Snape finished, his voice soft as silk, sharp as glass. "You've been lucky so far. But luck has a nasty habit of running out."

The silence pressed down like thick fog.

"Don't confuse protection with invincibility."

With that, Snape turned, black robes trailing behind him as he walked back to his desk.

"The world beyond these walls doesn't care how brave you think you are."

He waved him off, eyes already cold and dismissive, but the threat hung in the air like smoke long after.

Cael left the classroom, his legs heavy, his skin prickling with goosebumps. His body trembled slightly as the truth sank in. For the first time, he realized how reckless he'd been.

The stories from his old life never warned him how fast fear could tighten in his chest—how real the threat felt when it wasn't fiction. He'd acted without thinking, especially when it came to Fischer Frey.

Snape was right. Without Dumbledore, the Freys would've come for him by now. That thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He hated the feeling of relying on someone else to survive.

He needed to be better. Smarter. Fast.

A few days later

The greenhouse smelled like damp earth and fresh leaves. Sunlight poured through the glass ceiling, making the air warm and humid.

Cael walked in, gloves under his arm, scanning the room. The place buzzed with chatter and movement as students prepared for class.

Then he spotted her.

Cassandra Vole stood at the back table, away from the others. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her green eyes locked onto him the second he entered. She was already wearing her gloves, absentmindedly twisting a leaf between her fingers like she had all the time in the world.

"You're always slow when it comes to Herbology," Cassandra teased as he approached, smirking. "Are you part snail, or do you just hate plants that much?"

"I'm on time," Cael shot back, grinning as he tossed his gloves onto the table. "I can memorize plant names, what they do, how they grow… but I don't have your weird plant-whispering talent."

Cassandra rolled her eyes but smiled. "That's called talent, thank you very much. My family's been known for Herbology for ages. It's kind of in the blood."

"Oh, so Miss Vole is flexing her fancy family tree now," Cael said, pretending to pout. "Poor me, no famous family to brag about."

Cassandra smiled softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her teasing edge faded for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, very funny… Anyway, are you going to Diagon Alley over the Christmas holidays?"

Before Cael could answer, Professor Sprout's voice filled the greenhouse.

"Snargaluff pods today! Pair up—and be careful. They like to grab."

The room shifted as students scrambled for partners, but Cael and Cassandra stayed put. They always worked together in Herbology.

The Snargaluff pod on their table twitched, vines curling like restless snakes.

Cassandra grabbed her shears, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Five Sickles says it grabs your arm first."

Cael laughed, stepping closer. "Ten Sickles says I get the first pod out."

"You're on." She grinned.

They worked in sync, like they'd done it a hundred times. Cael wrestled the vines back while Cassandra snipped the sharp ones, then they switched. Their hands moved quickly, comfortably. No fights. No stress.

Cael finally yanked the slimy pod free, dropping it into the jar. "First pod. Ten Sickles."

Cassandra rolled her eyes, still smiling. "You're lucky I'm generous."

"You? Generous?" Cael joked. "Since when?"

"Since always," she shot back. "You just didn't notice."

Cael chuckled. "Right. Says the girl who tried to answer every question before me in first year and not letting me to answer . And our first interaction told me not to talk to her."

Cassandra shrugged, pretending to look serious. "To be fair, you were annoying back then. And I didn't know you yet."

"Oh, so it's always the man's fault?" he teased, grinning.

She snorted softly. "You're still just a boy, not a man."

They kept working, carefully cutting vines and pulling pods while the other students yelped around them. Their corner stayed calm.

After a while, Cassandra's voice turned quieter. "You know… most people stare at me. Like I'm dangerous."

Cael paused, glancing at her. "You kind of make them think that, though. Acting like they're beneath you?"

Cassandra twisted a vine between her fingers, frowning slightly. "I have my reasons. But… it's because I'm Slytherin. Everyone thinks Slytherins are the bad ones."

Cael shrugged. "You're still you."

Their eyes met, quiet understanding passing between them.

"You don't care?" she asked softly.

"Nah," Cael replied simply. "You're my friend. That's what matters."

A real smile crept across Cassandra's face—small but genuine. "Good."

They finished up the last pod, working smoothly together. When it was done, Cael packed up their tools while Cassandra cleaned the table.

As they grabbed their things, Cael bumped her shoulder lightly. "Next class… we doing this again?"

Cassandra bumped him back, smirking. "Of course."

They walked out of the greenhouse side by side, the sunlight warm on their backs .